


Blurred Lines

by Coymoonrising



Series: Remus Lupin Drabbles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts, Marauder's Era, Marauders, Marauders era, Moony - Freeform, Padfoot - Freeform, Prongs - Freeform, Werewolf, Wormtail - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coymoonrising/pseuds/Coymoonrising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before and of the full moon, the lines between the mind of Remus Lupin and the mind of the wolf begin to blur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurred Lines

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this per request on my blog, messrsmemoirs.tumblr.com, for a user called andromedatonksneeblack.

“Remus, NO!”

James Potter exploded into his field of vision, hands pressing into his shoulders to keep him still. At the touch, Remus Lupin felt like he’d woken up from a horrible dream. He was thrust back into his body, very much aware of his aggressive stance, very much aware of the condemning looks of an entire crowd of students, very much aware of the boy tearing up behind James–no more than a second or third year, by the look of him. A little pop from his neck sent a twinge of pain past his ears as Remus looked around, lowering his hands and trying to swallow. But he found his throat raw from yelling, and the effort made him cringe. When his eyes met James’, the look of concern was all Remus needed to see.

“I didn’t mean-I’m sorry, I-”, he stammered, but the realization sank fingers into his diaphragm. Cold adrenaline pumped shame and disgust through his system, and he felt the words escape him, abandoning him on the stage to drown in scathing stares. His eyes went wide, and Remus did the only thing he could think to do with the world screaming at his back: run. Past the crowd, he ran with downward eyes and the voices of his friends echoing on desperate heels. He dared not meet anyone’s gaze as he climbed the Grand Staircase, lungs burning and legs aching.

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to disappear, to hide his face and change his name, to go back in time and change– _everything_. Every footstep pounding across the stone floor was another failed attempt to escape what he was, what he could never change. And each breath was an affront to everything he believed in, because how could a werewolf ever be someone good? Shame reignited the coals of self-loathing ever burning inside him, and he reached his four-poster bed an empty shell. Everything inside of him was being consumed by flame.

Remus pressed his face into his pillow and issued a savage scream. The sound died in a wail, and Remus felt his face contort like it did when he cried. Furious with himself now, he sat up and wiped his eyes. Merlin, he was a fucking mess. Crying over this was not going to fix it–God, he was a _monster_ , for Merlin’s sake, did he really think he deserved _pity_ , even from himself? If he couldn’t keep himself in check, people would get hurt. The image of fear on the boy’s face taunted him, refusing to leave him in peace. It forced it’s way across his mind, demanding to be seen, demanding justice. Remus turned over to lay on his bed, feet on the floor, breathing into his hands. He would have to face them again. He knew it, and yet the thought of Azkaban was almost more appealing. Surely it was the talk of the school by now, and everyone knew. He would probably be hearing from Professor McGonagall, or maybe even Professor Dumbledore. After all these years, Remus had slipped. He hadn’t even taken his O.W.L.s yet–what good was he now?

An unwelcome knocking on the door to the dormitory interrupted him. Remus tensed, knowing what was coming and in no way prepared for it. He had hoped they would leave him in peace. He should have known better.

“Oi, Moony,” Sirius said, slipping quietly into the rounded room.

“Hey, Moony,” Peter followed. James was on their heels, pausing with his wand and whispering something to the door. A silencing charm, perhaps?

The three of them arranged themselves on Sirius’ bed, directly across from Remus’ legs. He tried not to acknowledge them, but he felt their eyes searching him. These people–they knew him. They knew what he was. They helped him every month, they became Animagi just for his sake. Remus felt like he had failed them somehow, but he knew he couldn’t control what had happened, whether he liked it or not–and so did they. He tried to tell himself so, but he found he still couldn’t look their way. They didn’t seem to mind.

“You okay, Moony?” Sirius asked. And of course it was obvious that he most certainly wasn’t, and of course it was obvious that they wanted him to come to them on his terms. And of course he was grateful–but part of Remus was sick of being grateful all the time. Part of him was just so sick.

“How bad is it?” he asked, still shielding his eyes with his hands. He rubbed his forehead, both for something to do and because a nagging ache suggested his brain had beaten itself raw with insults.

“Not at all,” he heard James say. James was always so calm when he dealt with issues like this. When he was angry, or sad, he was a mess. But when someone else was in trouble, some part of James emerged that was sturdy and patient.  
  
To his left, Sirius added, “Everyone thinks you’re stressed out ‘cause of your ‘sick mum.’”

Remus snorted. If only it were that simple.

“The boy’s alright, too,” Peter quipped. “We helped him calm down, told him the usual story, and he said he understands. I wouldn’t approach him for a little while, because he was quite shaken. But he’ll come around.”

“Cheer up, mate,” Sirius said. “Everything’s fine. We know how you get on the full moon.”

Now Remus sat up so he could look at them, and he hated the look in their faces. He was so sick of pity. He was so sick of secrets. He was so sick of everything–and–

“Everything’s not fine,” he spat, with more force than he intended. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I didn’t attack him because I was upset about tonight–I didn’t attack him at all. I wouldn’t have.”

“You’re under stress,” James offered. “Tonight’s full moon.”

“It’s not that,” Remus said. “Well, it is. I never mentioned it before, because it’s never been so bad. But… the lines blur, sometimes. Right around this time. Sometimes it’s hard for me to–to remember where I am, to remember who I am… **_I_** didn’t attack him. I remember seeing him throw a dung bomb in the hall, and I went to confront him in the courtyard–and then… and then…”

He lost his voice, reliving the disturbing memory through someone else’s eyes. The Marauders were silent, all of them not knowing what to say. Remus pressed his eyes into his palms, releasing an exacerbated sigh. He listened to his heart pound in his ears, imagining the blood flowing through each of his veins. It carried the seeds of venom, an infection that was more than physical. A good man wouldn’t attack anyone. A good man wouldn’t run away like a coward. A good man would never allow his friends to risk their safety for him. A good man–Remus was not a good man. Remus was a monster.

“Remus,” Sirius said, and there was a serious look in his face seldom expressed on the young Black. He had used Remus’ name, rather than his nickname. Remus glanced up at him.

“Don’t beat yourself up for this,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” Remus said, his voice getting louder with every word. It was a reoccurring theme: how could they still not understand, after spending time with him as a werewolf? How could they see what he became, see how wretched a thing a werewolf was, and _still not understand_? “It is my fault. I’m the one who pursued him! I’m the one who started in on him! I’m the one who lost control–it’s _not even full moon yet_ , not until tonight!” He was standing, now, fists clenched.

“Remus,” Peter started, his hands up. “He didn’t mean anything by-”

“I can’t lose control,” Remus shouted. “I’m supposed to be human–I’m supposed to be Remus, until the moon rises! I’m supposed to be human!”

“You are, Remus!” James said, standing to meet him. “You are. Whether you believe it or not, you’re the most human of us! So what if you’re a werewolf–you’re you, Remus, not your illness!”

Peter nodded furiously in agreement.

“Don’t let one shouting match get to you,” Sirius offered, his quiet grin asking for him to return to calmness. “It’s just a bad day. You’re one of us, Moony!”

Suddenly Remus hated that name. He hated how his friendships revolved around his illness. He hated how everything about him was tainted with oily moonlight. He stared at them, shoulders heaving. And then he realized: he felt strange.

He felt like he were falling into a pool of water. He was looking out of his eyes, but he was somewhere behind them. His body felt like paper, and he listened to it breathe with a strange sense of foreignness. He was floating inside someone else, watching through a shared window. There were faces in front of him–faces he didn’t recognize.

“Remus?” one of them said. But somehow, it was meaningless to him now.

“Guys, I think–”

Remus reached for the hem of the closest person, dragging Sirius to the ground with a guttural growl. He heard the other two begin shouting, and arms reached around his shoulders to pull him away from the floored teen. He tried to fight, to get out of the enclosed quarters. He needed to flee, to be free to roam and explore. He needed to bite, to scratch and cry out to the night. But the words that he thought he should be forming came out as grotesque noises, utterly inhuman.

One of them pulled out a wand and immediately everything went dark.

—-

 

Clenching the linens in shock, calloused fingers pulled the sheets into taut valleys under his knuckles. Crusted eyes ripped themselves open, darting about in a wild confusion as his lips opened wide to flood his lungs with the sweet stench of sterilization and flowers.

What’s happened? The place was familiar, and yet cold fingers of panic squeezed around his heard. He tried to swallow a tongue too thick for words.

“He’s coming out of it” someone to his left began. The words were strange in his mind, forcing rusted gears jerking into action. A higher part of his mind gave a twitch.

“I’ll go get her,” another voice, a different voice to his right, offered. A chair scooted across the stone floor and footsteps slapped into the distance.

A twang of fear hummed through his ribs. He was surrounded. Who were they–who was he? Where was this place, and what were they doing here? A face exploded into view, close to his own and his eyes went wide, pouring over the details of this stranger. Square spectacles obscured a dark brow sculpted with concern. Messy black hair shot out in all directions, looking windswept and manhandled. Below his neck, a red and gold tie glowed ember-like in the sunlight. The smell of the woods was faint in his clothing, masked by the prevalent smell of dust and hearth smoke.

“J-ames.” The name ripped through his dry throat, and the boy grinned. It was a confident expression tinted with relief.

“Hey, Moony,” James replied, eyes boring into his own. “Welcome back.”  
Back? A sharp breath caught in his chest. His identity flooded the dark recesses of thought, cold and unforgiving water drowning him in shock. It all made horrible sense, and Remus felt as though he’d missed the last step on the staircase. Punched in the gut by sudden realization, he hardly noticed Madam Pomfrey approach with a concerned Sirius in tow.

“Give me space,” she urged, scattering the boys away from Remus’s bedside and wrapping cold fingers around his face. She searched his face for something, before feeling his forehead with the back of her hands. “You gave us quite a scare,” she said. “Are you feeling well?”

“Well enough,” he said. But he felt like he’d been struck by the Whomping Willow, and it wasn’t even moonrise. Shame made him flush, and he tried to focus on anything but the others.

“You should have come to me sooner about this,” Madam Pomfrey said seriously.

Remus only nodded. He didn’t want to admit that he was wrong, keeping it to himself. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t manage himself. It was his problem. It was his condition. He felt weak, needing the help of others. But he did need it. Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail had shown him that. Fewer injuries, calmer moons… But this? This mental change, without warning? How could he control that? Relying on others for support was not ever something Remus wanted for himself.

“I’ll give you something for the pain,” Madam Pomfrey stated sternly. “It’s long lasting, so it may even help you into the night.”

Remus nodded again, knowing exactly what she meant. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Of course you are,” she said, still handing him a cup with something that went down like a milkshake, though with a less than gentle taste. He was glad when she finished, and finally went to check on the other patients.

Remus looked to the three boys in the corner, green eyes begging for forgiveness. “I am so sorry,” he began, but Sirius held a hand up.

“It’s not your fault, Moons,” he said, with a smile that left Remus feeling some empty relief.

“Sorry we had to stun you,” James said, with a sheepish shrug that said, 'it was the first thing he thought to do, it was an emergency, Moony, you understand, right?’

“Don’t be,” Remus said darkly. He was too tired to care about anything anymore. He wished for this day to just be over.

And it nearly was. The sun was near setting, and soon he would need to be on his feet and out the door. For the first time in his life, Remus wanted the transformation. He wanted it to be over. He wanted his life back.

Nothing more was said of the incident, for which Remus was grateful. He even managed to laugh at a joke Sirius made. When it was finally time, the three boys were shooed out of the Hospital Wing so Remus could make his way down to the Willow–escorted by Madam Pomfrey for the first time since he was twelve. He tried not to think on it.

Inside the Shack, Remus took in the sight of his previous romps. Animalistic destruction filled the small space to the seams, and disgust bloomed rotten in his heart. The silence of the building judged him, knowing his darkest secret. The events of the day rolled across his mind in film-like fashion.

Just before moonrise, they appeared as they always did: Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail. They were waiting for Moony. There was no resentment in their eyes. And as Remus disappeared, Moony greeted his friends for the first time in a month. Padfoot howled with him into the rafters, and Prongs and Wormtail chased him in circles.

After all, Moony was one of them. And they wouldn’t let him forget that, no matter what form he was in.


End file.
